


Color Storms

by xoxomj



Category: The Haunting of Hill House (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, Headaches & Migraines, Postpartum Depression, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27186470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoxomj/pseuds/xoxomj
Summary: A series of migraines that Olivia has in her life.
Relationships: Hugh Crain/Olivia Crain
Comments: 9
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Olivia gets a migraine while she's with Hugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've only watched half of Hill House but I had this idea rolling around my head and I wrote it in like 45 minutes after being awake half the night... anyway :)

The first time Olivia got one in front of Hugh, she didn’t quite know what to tell him. Normally, she’d excuse herself and retreat to somewhere quiet and dark, moving away from light, from loud noises, protecting herself from the harshness of the world, the overloading of her senses. But also, normally, she’s not in the middle of a three month anniversary date with a man she’s pretty sure she wants to marry, eating dinner at a fancy restaurant.

It happens as it always does, a familiar uncomfortable tingling and a bit of tension right behind her eyes, and then any light is too much light and almost all sound is too loud. Hugh is talking about houses.

She closes her eyes, inhaling sharply as the unfortunately familiar feeling of a poker repeatedly stabbing her brain begins. She knows she should excuse herself, deal with it herself, pack up their food in a to go box. She knows she cannot stay in this nice restaurant any longer. 

“Liv? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She says, her voice shaky. But the pain is increasing, and she’s starting to see explosions of color, too many happening at the same time, overwhelming her-

“Liv?” Hugh repeats, reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder. It’s only then she realizes she’s shaking.

“I’m sorry, I think I have to go home.” She whispers breathlessly. “I... I get these migraines and they’re-“ She gasps and then groans, her brow furrowing in pain. “Lights, sounds, I can’t-“ She presses her fingers against her skin, in the spot between her eyes where the pain is the most severe and intense. If she opened her eyes, she’d see him looking at her, alarmed. But she doesn’t, she can barely bring herself to open her eyes.

“I’ll get the bill and we can get out of here.” Hugh says quickly, after a few moments, flagging down a waiter. “You can step outside and wait there, I’ll drive you back to mine and you can lie down. Yours is too far.”

She manages to open her eyes enough to see right in front of her as Hugh helps her stand, and she staggers her way through the restaurant, not even knowing or caring if people are staring. Once she finds herself outside, she is relieved for a moment. At least it’s not too bright outside, and the traffic of downtown is only a low hum. 

She sits down on the side of the street, burying her face in her lap, groaning softly as the pain behind her eyes, in her head, intensifies, all the colors flashing through her brain too rapidly for her to process any of it. She pinches the spot between her eyes, and rubs her neck. She can feel her skin burning.

“Let’s get you comfortable, Liv.” Hugh says softly, approaching her. Suddenly there seems to be some sort of traffic jam, and loud honking fills the quiet night air. Olivia moans in response, moving to cover her ears, explosions of color layering over and over again. She’s trembling violently, and Hugh wants to get her home. Now.

He helps her up again, into the car, and buckles her seatbelt for her, reassuring her that he’s got her. He does his best not to speed, going just under the limit. Olivia moans, the motion making her nauseous. “Hugh, I need a bag-“

He glances over at her, and sees her, her eyes still squeezed shut, her face pale and slightly green. He rummages around the glove compartment for a bag he hopes is there- fortunately there is one, a leftover paper bag from god knows what, but it’s good enough for now. He hands her the bag, and promptly she vomits roughly into it, before moaning again, eyes still shut.

They make it to Hugh’s and she fortunately does not need to vomit anymore, but the intensity of the jabbing poker in her head is not letting up. She needs something for her head, an ice pack usually. She staggers into his apartment, for once is glad he’s on the first floor and she doesn’t have to haul herself up stairs. She leans heavily against the wall as she tries to take off her shoes, but soon Hugh is back and is helping her unbuckle her heels.

Hugh leads her over to the couch, helping her sit down. What’s striking her is how quiet he’s being, barely talking, only asking questions he needs answers to in that very moment. Is this position okay, do you want me to turn up the heat, do you want water.

“Ice pack.” She whispers breathlessly before moaning again, the migraine dragging on. She notices he didn’t turn on lights.

Hugh presses an ice pack into her palm, and she immediately moves it to cover her forehead, placing it directly over her eyes, where the pressure has built up on top of the pain. He takes her shaky hand and holds onto it firmly - not too tight, but letting her know he’s there to stay.

And together they sit in silence. For how long, she is not sure. All she knows is that he sat patiently with her, until she finally felt like she could open her eyes, until her head didn’t feel like it was splitting open, until the color explosions slowed and she could see some regular colors again. He’s looking at her with such caring and concern, her heart melts a little bit. 

“Thank you.” She mutters, her voice still a little shaky. The worst of it is over, but a dull throb in her temple stubbornly persists, as per usual. She rests her head on his shoulder, as he wraps an arm around her, still holding her hand with the other. “Thank you for not running away.”

“I don’t want to.” He says softly, holding her hand against his chest.

The steady pounding of his heart feels grounding. She closes her eyes, and through the lingering color storms, she can see this one, normal, constant color - the color of Hugh. She could never actually tell him what that color is, but it’s the color that makes sense, that doesn’t swim in and out of view, that doesn’t hurt her. Steady, consistent, like a rock in a storm.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia gets a migraine during a storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have finished Hill House and I wept! Anyway I will be continuing this.

Olivia hates storms. Hugh is familiar with this fact, at least, so when the forecast calls for a big storm, he decides to go over to her apartment and keep her company so she wouldn’t be alone - her roommate was out of town on a trip.

They were going to watch a movie, something funny and light. Singin’ in the Rain, he’d suggested, which was a little ironic given they were trying to distract themselves from a storm. What they didn’t account for, though, was Olivia getting one of her intense migraines mid-storm, mid-movie. Mid-tea drinking.

She tries to ignore it at first - after all, she is at her apartment with Hugh, they’re nowhere strange, and maybe she can just close her eyes and ride it out, here on the couch with Hugh, and just listening to the movie, to the songs. She’s seen it once before.

But she’s unable to contain her gasp of pain as the tension behind her eyes intensifies, pushing her closer to her breaking point. “No, not now.” She whispers to herself. And then the movie’s too loud, too bright. She doesn’t want to tell him to stop the movie, doesn’t want to stop their quiet laid-back date night-

Hugh pauses the movie at her gasp. “Liv,”

“No, no, we can continue.” She replies, but her eyes are closed, and she’s rubbing her temple, attempting to give herself some relief.

“You’re not watching-“

“I’m listening.”

Hugh tentatively continues, but the moment he presses play and the sound of the movie starts again Olivia moans, her forehead creasing. She stands, motioning for Hugh to stay as he pauses the movie again. “You can f-finish watching, I’m going to go lie down.”

“I’ll lie down with you.” Hugh says quietly.

“No, it’s fine, you stay-“ At that moment, a loud clap of thunder reverberates through the sky, and Olivia gasps, the sudden noise jarring her completely, intensifying her headache. She loses her balance and reaches out to hold onto the hallway doorframe for support. Hugh is there seconds later, an arm around her shoulders.

“Let’s go lie down.”

Olivia nods, still holding her head, her eyes closed. Hugh helps her down the hall to her room and into her bed. “What do you need, Liv?”

“Ice…” She whispers.

“I’ll grab it.” He says, keeping his voice low. Olivia nods, her eyes still closed. It thunders again, and she moans loudly as suddenly the pressure behind her eyes intensifies and she feels like her eyes might burst. She curls onto her side, fully covering her eyes, pushing against them as if trying to counter the pressure behind.

She forces herself to sit up and lean against the headboard, reaching next to her for the codeine. If this storm is going to keep at it, she figures she’d better take something to numb herself a little bit. 

Hugh returns with an ice pack. “Thanks, love.” She says.

“Anytime.” He joins her on the bed, watching her intently. She holds the ice pack over her eyes with one hand, rubbing her neck with the other.

She takes a shuddering breath as she attempts to ease herself through the pain. She feels like her head is getting stabbed repeatedly with a poker, and the back of her neck aches.

“Let me help you.” Hugh says softly. She opens her eyes to see what he means - wrong move, a flash of lightning strikes and now it’s way too bright. She inhales sharply, closing her eyes, as thunder claps again. She can feel herself trembling as the pain in her head doubles down. She whimpers, trying to keep her breathing steady.

She feels Hugh reach around to her neck, nudging her hand out of the way. He begins to gently knead his fingers into her muscles. This time she moans, because she’s found a source of slight relief from the pain surrounding her. 

“Thank you.” She takes her free hand and rests it on his chest. There it is, his steady, even heartbeat that she loves so much. 

After around 20 minutes, she finally starts to feel the effects of the codeine, and she stops using the ice pack. She opens her eyes, blinking a little, adjusting to the light. Hugh is still massaging her neck gently. “I think I want to lie down.” She says softly. Hugh nods, and they both lie down on her bed. She still rests her hand on his chest, and he holds onto it, gently rubbing his thumb on her wrist. She closes her eyes. It’s a bit early, but she could sleep…

The thunder and lightning seems to have passed, leaving behind a heavy downpour. It’s raining against her window — hard. She scoots a little closer to Hugh, her anxiety picking up slightly. It sounds like hail.

“Are you okay?” Hugh asks. “I mean, are you feeling better?”

“The drugs are kicking in.” She replies wryly, smiling at him slightly. It rains even harder, and she can feel her nerves starting to ramp up more and more.

They lie in silence, the rain coming harder and harder on her window. She props herself up to look at the window, expecting to see rocks hammering against it. But it’s too dark, and the sudden movement did not agree with her still throbbing head. She closes her eyes, wincing, before laying back down next to Hugh. “Everything good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She forces a small smile, but the anxiety pooling in her stomach is only increasing the more the rain continues.

It rains even harder, and Olivia is now certain that it has to be hail. Hugh can feel her trembling, but her eyes are wide open. Something is definitely wrong. She takes a shuddering breath and forces herself to exhale slowly, trying to calm herself down. “Some hail, huh?” She says shakily.

“It’s not hail, it’s just rain.” Hugh says. “Really, really hard rain.”

“No. It can’t be. It has to be hail. It’s pounding the window so hard.”

“It’s not, hail wasn’t in the forecast.”

“It doesn’t have to be forecast to happen.” She counters.

Hugh turns to look out the window, trying to see if he could see hail. He can’t see from the window, but Olivia is shaking with such genuine fear that he figures he’d better double check. He walks over to the window and peers down on the ground, wondering if he would see any little rocks.

“Nope, just the rain, babe.” He says gently, returning to her bed and taking his place by her side.

“It sounds like hail.”

“I promise it’s not.”

“I hate hail.”

“I know.” Hugh turns on his side, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to it, before holding it against his chest. “You’re safe here with me.” He leans towards her to kiss her forehead gently. She leans into his kiss, closing her eyes. “Safe from whatever world you’re imagining." 

Olivia chuckles weakly, before moving to kiss him on the lips. "My line." 

They stay on their side like that, facing each other, Hugh holding Olivia’s hand firmly against his chest, and soon she falls asleep, worn out and exhausted. Hugh's heartbeat grounds her, keeps her tethered to earth, from floating away too much into her imagination. Weathering whatever the storm inside her is.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia gets one while pregnant with Steve. Just fluffy and a bit cheesy, because the Crains deserve something nice and happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I write these I'm realizing these are all very similar, just variations of the exact same fic. But will that stop me from writing? Probably not. Anyway enjoy <3 And thank you for reading!!!

Nothing ever felt more right than when Olivia got pregnant.

It wasn’t planned, but they recently decided it was okay to go off the pill so of course it was going to happen at some point — but what they didn’t bank on was it happening so quickly. Literally a month after she went off the pill she was pregnant, and then everything fell into place.

This pregnancy was honestly pretty easy. She’d heard all sorts of stories of women having too much morning sickness, feet ballooning three sizes up, constant back pain, etc. etc. — but Olivia didn’t really experience much of that.

That is, until her third trimester arrived. She didn’t really take maternity leave — she did most of her work at home anyway, and went in only when she was needed. So during her 28th week she was up and about, working on a project for her firm, home alone, when one of her awful migraines hit.

She sits at her desk, inhaling sharply as she feels the onset of a headache. “Are you kidding me…” She says under her breath, massaging her temples. She feels the baby kick inside her, as if aware of her sudden distress. She gently presses her palm against the spot where he kicked, as if to reassure him that she’s fine.

Which isn’t necessarily true… she’s not sure she is. Suddenly she’s acutely aware of how big she is, how much her back hurts, how much extra weight she’s carrying. She leans against the arm of her chair, closing her eyes, wincing as her migraine intensifies. She needs to get an ice pack, but the pressure behind her eyes is building, and the color fireworks are starting again, making it difficult for her to see

Hugh should technically be home soon, it’s around that time. She wonders if she can just ride it out until he arrives and can help her out, but it becomes imperative that she handle it herself, it’s getting to be too painful to manage without some sort of relief. 

She carefully pulls herself to her feet, gasping softly as her back suddenly twinges painfully. Her center of gravity is all off thanks to the baby in her belly, and, coupled with her headache-addled brain, she almost loses her balance as she stands.

Her migraine worsens as she waddles towards the door of her study, and she has to stop and close her eyes. Feeling around the wall, she finds the switch for the light in the study and turns it off, breathing a small sigh of relief as the pressure behind her eyes lets up slightly. She leans against the doorframe, forcing herself to take deep breaths, and she slowly eases herself along the small hallway to the kitchen, pausing when the pain increases, moving when it dips.

She winces at the harsh light of the kitchen, and, a hand fumbling for the switch on the wall, she turns it off. A little better. She exhales again, groaning softly as the steel poker in her head continues to stab her repeatedly. She pauses, leaning her hands against the small table in the kitchen, taking a moment to compose herself and regain her thoughts. What does she need? Water. Ice pack.

She’s finding it more and more difficult to see things clearly, the exploding colors of this headache causing everything to appear blurry, with a slight hued tinge. She reaches up into the cupboard, trying to grab a glass, when her migraine intensifies again, so much so that she shudders from the pain. Her back now hurts like hell, and the baby is kicking repeatedly. Every inch of her feels sore, and there’s nothing she wants to do more than just lie down with her husband by her side. Fuck, when is Hugh coming home?

Another wave of pain washes over her and she gasps out loud, now resting her back against the kitchen counter. She slowly slides down to sit on the ground, trying to do it in as controlled a way as possible so as not to further aggravate her already stressed body. She feels tears spring to her eyes, and wipes them away. It all feels too much.

As if on cue, she hears the keys in the door, and the door open. Any second now, Hugh will come into the kitchen and see her on the ground, lights off. 

“Liv?” He calls out. Oof, he’s too loud for her liking. “Liv? Where are you?”

“Here.” She says as loudly as she can muster, before inhaling sharply again, her headache still raging. She’s not sure if Hugh heard her, but by now he should be in the kitchen anyway. She hears him wander in and turn on the light instinctively, and the reaction from her is visceral. She cries out, and instantly her back stings again, the baby kicking aggressively again, the pressure behind her eyes reaching a fever pitch.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Hugh immediately turns off the lights and hurries to Olivia’s side. “Liv-“

“Migraine.” She ekes out.

“Ice? Water?” Hugh asks softly. She nods. He stands and she hears him fill up a glass of water, and grab a ready-made ice pack from the freezer. “Can I help you stand, babe?”

“Yes please.” She whispers.

He helps her to her feet, steadying her as she rises, keeping a hand on her back where he knows she’s been having some lower back pain. He hands her the glass, watching carefully as she downs the water, and then hands her the ice pack. She places it over her eyes, sighing as she gets some relief.

“Do you need another ice pack?”

Olivia thinks for a moment, before nodding gingerly. He rummages in the freezer for a moment, putting together another ice pack.

“Where?”

“Back.” She feels a sharp twinge of pain again, wincing. Hugh carefully places the second ice pack against her lower back, holding it in place as they stand in the kitchen.

“Maybe we should move to the couch or the bedroom.” He says quietly. She nods, and, carefully, they shift to the couch. He helps her sit down, adjusting the pillows so the ice pack for her back can be positioned in the right place.

“He’s not liking this much.” Olivia mutters under her breath, as the baby kicks her again. She gently presses her palm against the spot on her tummy, and he stops.

“He can probably feel how stressed you are.” 

“Perhaps.” She closes her eyes again, leaning her head back against the couch. Every part of her body is sore. Maybe she should schedule a massage.

One hand keeping the ice pack over her eyes, she instinctively moves her hand towards Hugh, who takes it, giving her a tender kiss before holding it against his chest. There it is, the gentle thumping of his heart. She feels her shoulders relax a little more, the tension start to ease away.

After a long while, Hugh realizes she’s fallen asleep, ice pack still on top of her eyes. He carefully stands, not wanting to disturb her and stealthily moves the ice pack off of her, letting her hand rest by her side. She doesn’t budge. He brushes a strand of hair away from her face, before kissing her forehead gently. She wakes as he does.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He says apologetically, still keeping his voice low. “I was going to let you sleep, I know it’s been hard.”

“No, it’s fine, I was kind of uncomfortable anyway.” She says, wincing slightly as she shifts. “Besides, he’s awake.” Her migraine has finally dissipated, and now she’s left with a dull but manageable headache, her sore muscles and a kicking baby.

She pulls his hand down to her belly, putting his palm right where the baby is kicking. He kneels down next to her, resting his hand over her dress. “Does that hurt?”

“Not really, just makes it a little more difficult to fall asleep.” She says, resting her hand atop his on her belly. After a few more kicks, the baby stops. “I think he’s fallen asleep.”

“You should probably do the same while he’s asleep.” He stands and offers his hand to help her get up.

“Actually I’m starving, can we eat first?” She asks, turning to go to the kitchen.

“Oh, right.” He realizes they’d forgotten about dinner. He follows her into the kitchen. “What do you want?” He turns on a lamp instead of the main overhead light, knowing she’s likely still a little sensitive to light.

Olivia thinks for a moment. “Chocolate ice cream.” She pauses. “With some pickles.”

Hugh makes a face. “Absolutely disgusting.” 

“Don’t blame me, blame YOUR child.” She giggles. She sits at the kitchen table, watching him prepare her ‘dinner.’ She ponders out loud. “What do you think he’ll be like when he grows up?”

“Probably like you.”

“You’re just saying that. I think he’ll be the spitting image of you.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Just a hunch.” She grins.

“So now YOU’RE just saying that.”

She shrugs. “Guess so.”

“Alright, here’s your ‘dinner’ Liv.” He makes another face as he hands her a jar of pickles and a bowl of ice cream. 

Olivia grabs them eagerly. Hugh watches as she opens the jar, takes out a pickle, and dips it into her bowl. He pretends to gag, before getting up to make his own sandwich. 

“I really don’t get how you can eat that.” He says, shaking his head.

“Ask YOUR son that.” She retorts, taking a bite out of her chocolate ice cream pickle.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll do that when he pops out.” Hugh says sarcastically. 

He sits across from her with his normal sandwich, staring at her in slight disgust as she dips the pickle in her ice cream in between each bite. She catches his gaze. “Want a bite?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Suit yourself, this is delicious.” He sticks his tongue out, making another face. “Wow, is THAT what you think of me?” She pretends to be hurt.

“You know what I think of you.” He says, taking her hand, the mood changing from playful to affectionate. He kisses her hand again.

“I know, love.” She grins, keeping her hand in his as she takes another bite of her pickle.

“What are we going to do with all the pickles after he’s born? Will you still crave them?”

“I think I’ll eat all of them before he’s born.”

“Liv, we have like 30 full jars of pickles.”

“Yum.”

“You’ll eat every single pickle?”

“Every single goddamn pickle.” She grins at him again. “You have my word.”

“God, I love you.” Hugh says, laughing to himself.

“Enough to try this chocolate ice cream pickle?” She offers him a bite again.

Hugh stands, moving to take his plate to the kitchen sink. He kisses her forehead. “Oh, more than that for sure. But you see, that would deprive YOU of your pickle.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia gets a migraine when Hugh leaves when Steve was 1 year old (as mentioned briefly in Episode 8).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took some turns I didn't expect, and I wanted to leave on somewhat of a hopeful note (even though Hugh returns later). Sorry this took so long!! I think this will have 7 chapters total, so three more to go :) I had read in someone else's fic that Olivia had postpartum depression, and I liked that idea so I borrowed it and ran with it. TW for depressing sad thoughts...

When Hugh left, Olivia cried every day for a week.

She wasn’t sure if it was because of the postpartum depression that had appeared within the past month, or if it was because she was so genuinely sad and upset that Hugh left. Probably both. She tried her damned hardest to keep functioning, but it was fucking difficult. 

Her postpartum depression seemingly materialized out of thin air. One minute she was fine, thrilled to have a new baby, thrilled with her life with Hugh, thrilled to be back at work and off maternity leave. And then suddenly she couldn’t get out of bed, stuck in the endless depths of her own thoughts. She would have days where she would just stare at the ceiling from the moment she woke up to when it was time for bed, days when she slept all day, days when literally everything made her cry, whether it was sad or not. She simply could not bring herself to take care of Steve as well as she had been before, and Hugh was often forced to stay home whenever she couldn’t get out of bed.

On those days, Hugh would have to take care of Steve while also working, which she knows is not entirely fair to him, but she just felt so hopeless and miserable all she wanted to do was curl on her side and stare at the carpet. Which probably contributed to Hugh wanting to leave and then ultimately leaving. They’d discussed calling Janet to come and help out, but she said she’d get better, she promised Hugh she would. But then she didn’t, and so he left.

And so she lay in bed, her face streaked with tears, listening to Steve’s even breathing as he napped next to her, about a week after Hugh up and left. Steve had just turned one, and they’d been trying to get him to sleep on his own… But SHE did not want to be alone, so he slept with her in their bed. He was perfectly fine with that, wanting to sleep with mommy anyway. Daddy too, of course. She pretends it doesn’t wound her deeply every time he stares around the apartment asking for “Dada” (his first words were “Dada”), merely murmuring in response “Dada’s just away for a while, he’ll be back soon.” She doesn’t even think he really understands so she doesn’t quite know why she says that to him — maybe deep down, it’s something she knows she’s trying to assure herself of. Even though she knows the likelihood of Hugh returning is… slim.

How the hell is she going to manage without Hugh? Hugh is her line, what’s tethering her to earth, what prevents her from floating away. They were supposed to be a team. The kite and the line against the world. Except now she was just by herself, with a one year old child and a serious bout of postpartum depression. The world isn’t kind to single mothers OR people with depression, and here she is… a single mother with depression.

She sighs deeply, attempting to rein in her wandering thoughts. Take it a day at a time, Liv, she reminds herself gently. She’d called Janet in a panic when Hugh first left, and that’s what Janet kept telling her as she cried on the phone. Plus, Janet reminded her she had to take care of Steve, do what’s best for Steve. 

At least she had gotten it diagnosed, she tries to reassure herself. After Hugh left, the one… “action” she took was to go see a doctor. Janet convinced her to drop Steve off at daycare and see her physician, who promptly diagnosed her with postpartum depression.“But I gave birth like 11 months ago?”

“It can materialize anywhere from during pregnancy up to a year after birth.” Her doctor explained patiently.

Today was one of the better days, one where she felt like she could get out of bed. She sighs, placing a gentle kiss to Steve’s forehead, and forces herself to sit up. She gave herself a schedule she tries her best to stick to, and right now was to wash the dishes from lunch and breakfast. Janet promised she would drop by next weekend, the soonest she could get away from work, to help Olivia figure out her next moves — whether she needs to move back in with Janet, or if she can make it without help.

Olivia picks up Steve — he doesn’t stir, sound asleep — and brings him to the living room, where she gently deposits him in his playpen and covers him with his favorite blanket. He shifts, pulling his blankets closer to him, revealing his little feet. Olivia smiles faintly. He’s keeping her going right now. 

She heads into the kitchen leaving the door open such that she can see into the living room, if he needs something. She turns her attention to the pile of dishes in the sink, slips on yellow gloves, and begins to wash the dishes.

She manages to find something somewhat soothing in doing the dishes. They sometimes seemed like an insurmountable task, but today it’s okay. They had a dishwasher (which was a feature that had appealed to both Hugh and Olivia when they were looking at places to rent), but today she felt like doing the dishes by hand.

She stops suddenly, feeling a familiar prickle of pain behind her eyes, right at her forehead. The cup she’s washing clatters to the bottom of the sink, and she inhales sharply, her brow furrowing. She chances a glance over at the playpen, hands gripping the edge of the sink as her headache intensifies. Steve doesn’t stir, thank god.

She forces herself to breathe as the pressure in her head increases, sighing softly, suppressing a moan she wants to let out. She really doesn’t want to deal with a baby while she’s having a migraine.

She’s a bit annoyed, to be honest. This threw her plan to be a productive person today off track, and she had to seize that modicum of motivation whenever it presented itself, especially now with Hugh gone. She hadn’t had one of her migraines in a long while, about six months. She supposes she should have assumed one would inevitably come while she was suffering from postpartum depression, but she managed to get away without one so far. This is really fucking inconvenient.

A sharp pain pulses through her head, and she gasps softly, pressing her fingers against her temple, the other hand still gripping the edge of the sink. 

Fuck, she wishes Hugh were here. So badly. He was always so good with her when she got one of her color storms, so patient, so gentle. He knew exactly what she needed, and could always take care of her in just the right way.

As her headache subsides slightly, she takes the brief moment of respite to move towards the fridge to get an ice pack. She opens the freezer door, shivering slightly as the cold air brushes her skin, but almost yelps out loud as the sharp stabbing pain comes back in full force, causing her to close her eyes and her breathing to speed up. She forces herself to breathe through it, consciously counting several seconds for her inhale, hold, and exhale.

Steve picks that moment to wake up and start crying, which only serves to worsen her headache. She knows she has to pick him up and soothe him somehow, but her head hurts so much. Nevertheless, ice pack pressed against her forehead, she staggers towards the playpen in the living room. Steve cries louder, and Olivia tries her best to keep her breathing even, wills the pain in her head to decrease to a dull manageable throb. But it’s not working, her migraine just keeps pressing through her.

“Shh, Steve-“ She manages to eke out before another sharp wave of pain comes, and she leans heavily on the side of the playpen. She can feel her knees start to give out, and lowers herself to the floor with a soft thud, wincing as her knee hits the floor harder than she intended, her ice pack dropping to the ground and clattering against the wood loudly. She grips one of the wooden poles and rests her forehead against the side of the playpen as Steve continues to cry, closing her eyes, trying to get the pain to settle, willing Steve to stop crying please please please. Fumbling on the floor, she finds the ice pack and moves it to the back of her neck. It provides a tiny bit of relief that she finds solace in. The maternal instinct in her wants to reach in and hold him close, but she can’t afford to pick him up and then drop him if the migraine gets too intense. She hums softly in the back of her throat, trying to ground herself, get her body to calm down, to relax.

No such luck. Her migraine keeps its steady hold on her brain, stabbing it repeatedly. It’s a solid rhythm, at least, a solid, steady poking feeling. If it weren’t for the sharp pain and fireworks that happened with each burst of concentrated pressure right behind her eyes, it might even have been comforting. A wave of nausea passes over her, and she hiccups, trying to keep it down, not wanting to vomit all over Steve’s playpen. Fortunately the feeling subsides.

If only she hadn’t been so… stupid. Let the postpartum depression take over her like this. Then Hugh would be here and he could deal with Steve and then help her out. It’s been so long since she’d been alone for one of her migraines, she forgot how heavily she’d relied on Hugh to help her with them. And then a split second later she chastises herself for thinking that she let the postpartum depression take over her. It’s not her fault. She vacillates between those two feelings daily (Is she to blame? Is she not to blame?), and it’s exhausting.

Steve has since seemed to give up, just staring at her with teary eyes, now standing inside his playpen with his finger in his mouth. He just learned how to stand and does it especially when he’s trying to figure out what’s going on around him. He looks around, and then at her, and she can see he’s still wondering where Dada is. At least now it’s quiet and her body can begin the long and slow process of calming down after a migraine, of allowing the pain to pass through, of not intensifying with any heightening of her senses.

Steve waddles over to where Olivia is kneeling by his playpen, and wraps his tiny hand around hers through the wooden bars. It’s warm, comforting, and almost makes her cry. She blinks back the tears and rests her head against their joined hands, closing her eyes. Her headache is very slowly starting to subside.

After a few more minutes, she feels as though she can stand properly without feeling dizzy or nauseous. “I’ll be back.” She whispers to Steve, before disappearing into the bedroom to grab her codeine pills. She knocks one back with a sip of water, and returns to the playpen. She’s still not sure she trusts herself to lift him out, so she sits by his playpen, humming a quiet song in the back of her throat, as he watches her. It’s as if he suddenly realizes he should be quiet during this time. She still rests the ice pack on the back of her neck, awkwardly positioning herself so it will stay there without her having to hold it.

She feels the pain subside more quickly as the codeine sets in, and finally, after 25 long minutes, she feels okay enough to pick up Steve without risking him dropping. Steve seems relieved when he’s back in her arms, and clings to her tightly, quiet with eyes wide.

“I’m sorry, baby.” She coos softly, bouncing him on her hip. She can feel the dull throb of her migraine still in the back of her head, and she retreats to the bedroom, still a little worried in case her migraine comes barreling back and she drops him.

And so she finds herself lying in bed again for the next hour, the pressure behind her eyes reduced to an annoyingly persistent pulse muted by the narcotics she had taken. She knows Steve is awake next to her, curled into her side, his fist balling up her shirt — his breathing hasn’t evened out to indicate sleep yet. It’s definitely much too early for him to sleep, but he doesn’t seem to want to be left alone to play. It’s okay, neither does she.

She looks down at him and he looks back up at her, and her breath is caught in her throat for a second. He looks so much like Hugh, and is acting so much like Hugh would in this moment. He’s so quiet, unusually quiet, and seems to know all he has to do is be there for her, stick with her for long enough so she can regain her bearings and her sense of self.

And he shifts so he can see her better, and crawls up so that he’s closer to her. Then he pecks her cheek gently, followed by a declarative “Mwah.” 

“Oh, thanks for the kiss, Stevie.” She says, chuckling softly. Steve seems satisfied with himself and returns to his position at her side, curled at her hip, sucking on his finger.

She takes a deep breath. Soon, he will be crying again, likely because he’s hungry. They have some leftovers from her last burst of energy a few days ago, when she managed to cook up a meal for 4 people rather than a mom who can barely find her appetite and a 1 year old toddler. At least that saves her having to cook tonight.

But for now, she’ll take this moment, just her and her son, curled up in the bed in this house, after he gave her a “feel better” kiss. She’s grateful Hugh didn’t kick her out of the house, at least.

Her breath catches again, and Steve looks up. “Mwah?” He asks, as if wondering if she needs another. He looks prepared to do so again. She chuckles — he really is his father’s son. She tries not to think about how much she misses Hugh’s touch and kisses as Steve crawls back up to and leans his head in to her cheek. “Mwah.”

“Mwah to you, little man.” She says, kissing his cheek gently.

He smiles at her, and his little crooked smile reminds her of Hugh again and she swallows her tears. Steve doesn’t need to see her be weepy all the time. He deserves a full, happy life. She’ll figure this out, for their boy who deserves to thrive.

The kite can and will try her best to work it out.


End file.
